


Too Great a Temptation

by QuickedWeen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Genderswap, Girl Direction, Smut, Victorian, but mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 22:43:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13397826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickedWeen/pseuds/QuickedWeen
Summary: Harry and Louis attend a fancy dress ball.





	Too Great a Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> 2\. The fear of public speaking.
> 
> I promise this isn't what you think it's going to be... I don't know where this came from...
> 
> This fic was written as part of an ongoing challenge using the book 1000 Feelings For Which There Are No Names for our prompts. To read the other fics written in this challenge, [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ShortFic_Challenge_For_Which_There_Is_No_Name/works). You can find more information on the challenge here and to reblog the masterpost on tumblr, you can [click here](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/post/159679804243/1000-feelings-for-which-there-are-no-names-prompt).

Harry shivered as she settled herself near the tall doors that led the balcony. The ball was an absolute crush this evening; Harry really didn’t understand why it was necessary for a hostess wanting to make her mark on the season to invite absolutely everyone. Not every member of the tonne was indispensable every time someone wanted to throw a party.

This would be so much more bearable if Louis were with her. If Louis was determined to stay away, Harry would be more than happy to bow out and make more room in the ballroom. If her best friend wasn’t here, it was not worth coming.

Her best friend since childhood, Louis grew up in the house next door. House, meaning mansion in Grosvenor Square, if Harry was being honest.

Louis’ ancestral seat was in Doncaster, and when they weren’t in town for the season it felt like Doncaster was dreadfully far from Cheshire.

But that was the beauty of London, wasn’t it? Everyone came from all over the country to live shoulder to shoulder for more than half the year. Because it was _society_. Harry rolled her eyes and played with her fan.

“Don’t roll your eyes,” Harry heard brush over her left shoulder, and her head snapped up to find the source.

“Lou!” Harry cried out. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“Of course I came, I told you I would be here, didn’t I? I would never miss Lady… Lady… this fancy dress ball,” Harry giggled when Louis tried to cover up her faux pas of not knowing who the hostess was. Louis was horrible at remembering names of tonne members she thought were useless.

That was when Harry really got the chance to see Louis’ costume. Harry’s costume was _de riguer_ with what felt like a particularly extra large hoop and a very deep cut bodice. She was supposed to be a shepherdess or some such nonsense according to her modiste, but she had lost her hook ages ago. She may have even left it at home. All she really concentrated on was the dress.

The other day she and Louis had snuck up to her bedroom under the guise of cleaning out Harry’s wardrobe. Instead Louis had carefully undressed Harry, pressing kisses into her skin, and going into great detail about her love of each one of Harry’s body parts. She had paid particular attention to the way Harry’s breasts had swelled over the top of her corset. Harry had never liked her breasts, she thought they were too small, but Louis hadn’t been able to get enough of their softness, or so she said.

All that, and it had been the middle of the day, with the sun streaming in through the window. Harry had been scandalized, and it had set her body alight even more so than it usually was around Louis.

Harry had coincidentally started wearing lower cut gowns since then, and she had worn her most daring tonight by far. She thought the dress was supposed to be worn with a chemisette, and the modiste had included one, but Harry had accidentally forgotten to put it on. Her mother had only raised her eyebrow a bit before they climbed into the carriage.

Harry “forgetting” undergarments wasn’t new. She made her protestations about how constricting they were well known. Tonight, she had forgone her chemisette and one of her petticoats, so there was only a thin layer between the silk of her skirt and the ginormous hoop.

But Louis. Goodness. Louis’ costume. She was a woodland nymph, but she had clearly found a very old dress, it had to be at least forty years old  - or maybe she had it made special - but it dated back to a time when women didn’t wear hoops, or even very many undergarments.

The white gauzy material was diaphanous to the point it was almost see through, and Harry had to regain her bearings to make sure she didn’t faint from the sight.

Louis couldn’t be wearing much more than a petticoat and pantaloons under her dress. The material was cinched under her much more ample bust, and flowed out from there the way Harry had seen in paintings. It clung just enough to show off the generous curve of Louis’ hips and bottom, right where Harry usually clung to her when they would explore each other’s pleasure hidden up in her bedroom.

“Lou,” Harry gulped.

“My darling, you look so beautiful, I wish I could kiss you,” Louis whispered again, leaning in as close as she could to Harry without Harry’s skirts getting in the way. She leaned back into her own space when the Dowager Duchess of Dovedale walked by them. That woman was wily, even in her advanced age. “I have to say, I do prefer that there is only one ridiculous skirt separating us now instead of two. Your modiste must have it out for me given how large your hoops have gotten.”

Harry hid a snicker behind her fan. “I think that’s the point, Lou. She must protect my virtue against all of the eligible bachelors who begin tugging at my skirts.”

She had meant it as a joke, but Louis snarled in jealousy. “They can’t have you.”

While jealousy had to be some sort of sin, Harry couldn’t help but flush at the idea of Louis being so protective over her. She never thought she would be one of those women, but then when she and Louis first confessed their love for each other, a lot more things began to make sense.

Harry felt a literal tug on her skirts and looked down to where Louis’ hand was absentmindedly curled into the fabric while she watched the other couples dance by them in a waltz. Harry stepped to the side just to see what would happen, and Louis didn’t disappoint, keeping a solid grip on the satin of Harry’s skirt.

Behind her fan, Harry beamed.

Louis, though, had begun to look around in curiosity. Specifically at the windows behind Harry and their heavy drapes. Harry watched as her thoughts passed across her face, until it landed on one that was normally reserved for when they were behind closed doors.

Nothing good could come of this.

“Harry?” Louis asked innocently. Too innocently.

“Yes, Lou?”

“Do you think you could stand here and stay still, no matter what happened?” The question was so odd that it took Harry a moment to answer.

“I suppose so,” she replied.

“Good,” Louis nodded. “Keep your back to the window at all times.”

“Why?” Harry asked, but Louis was already gone. There was a fresh breeze, so she must have snuck out the next window over.

Soon the breeze was much stronger as the tall window opened and closed directly behind Harry and there was a firm tug on her hoop skirt.

“Louis? Is that you?” She whispered harshly.

“Hush!” She could hear from somewhere behind her.

Suddenly the breeze was much stronger, and Harry could feel the entire back of her dress lift off the floor. What was Louis doing back there?

Harry’s eyes darted around taking stock of the people in her immediate vicinity; none of them seemed to sense that anything was wrong. If anything, they had welcomed the slight breeze and circulation of air from the window.

Just as Harry’s heartbeat settled, she felt one of Louis’ hands wrap around one of her ankles.

Harry startled and shifted her other leg to try and kick Louis off, but she held fast.

She couldn’t very well ask Louis what she was doing again, it was very clear that Louis was shoving herself under Harry’s skirts. But why? Harry couldn’t start yelling in the direction of her skirts either, she would be carted off to the sanitarium.

Louis kept shifting around, with minimal bumping of the multitudinous layers of over skirt that Harry had on until she had spread Harry’s legs enough that she could sit in front of her.

Harry could tell that Louis was sitting in front of her legs, because she could feel her humid breath on her thighs through her thin pantalettes.

Without so much as a “by your leave,” Harry felt Louis reach up and separate the folds in the center of her pantalettes, further exposing Harry to the night air.

Harry couldn’t yell in the direction of her skirts but she did glare sternly when she heard a barely there mumble of, “So beautiful.”

There was no way Louis could possibly do what it felt like she was about to do, Harry thought to herself, even as it felt as though Louis was reaching for the ribbons at the top of her pantalettes. Louis was going to retie the ribbons, set Harry right, climb back out, and they would have a good laugh about it.

She definitely would not touch-- Harry stifled a moan as she felt the pads of Louis’ fingers slip between her legs. She couldn’t deny that Louis was met with wetness, the telling evidence that Harry was enjoying every second of this.

Louis must have felt her reaction because she reached up and pinched Harry’s hip. Indicating that she shouldn’t give away what was happening. Louis had to muffle Harry on the best of days, even when their private time had only a hint of scandal. She must have a much firmer belief that Harry could get through this without alerting the entire ballroom than Harry did.

The fingers between her legs grazed back and forth gathering more of the wetness before Louis, not wanting to waste time, slid one finger slowly into Harry the way she had before.

Harry loved that this was something she knew. She knew what it felt like to be touched intimately by Louis. She knew what it felt like to be given pleasure at Louis’ hand, and to give Louis pleasure in return, but nothing had prepared her for this.

Louis began to drag her finger in and out of Harry, and even the change in angle due to Harry’s standing in the middle of the ballroom - where she was normally on a bed - made this more exquisite.

As soon as Harry had sunk into the low hum of pleasure it gave her body, Louis inserted another finger.

They were both new to this, intent on learning together, though Louis had stolen some of her uncle’s erotic novels, this was as far as they had gone, but two of Louis’ fingers finding the spot deep within Harry that lit up her spine from the inside out never failed to bring Harry to completion.

She could feel her body gearing up for it already. Her breathing was heavy, her breasts heaving so dangerously she was afraid she would actually fall out of her bodice. Her face had to be flushed red enough to match the velvet curtains on either side of her, and her fan was flying back and forth faster than it ever had before.

Louis’ back and forth, in and out, rhythm continued and Harry could feel herself near the edge, chasing the pleasure she so desired, when the air changed near her.

“Harry, darling, there you are!” Her mother took Harry so by surprise that she involuntarily clenched around the two fingers that Louis had stilled inside of her. Oh, God.

“Mother,” she croaked, her voice destroyed from how heavily she had been breathing. She coughed to clear her throat, but that only caused her muscles to clench around Louis again, sending sparks of pleasure shooting back through her. She did her best to bite down on her lower lip to keep her moans at bay.

“You don’t look well, Harry, is everything alright?”

Harry nodded frantically. “Just, erm, getting some air. From the draft.” While Louis’ fingers had stilled, her other hand was roaming the expanse of Harry’s hip and bottom, petting the soft skin and tingly nerves there above where her pantalettes had loosened.

“Would you like some lemonade? Maybe some ratafia?” Her mother asked, concern deepening her frown.

Fetching a beverage would take her ages and she would inevitably be waylaid by no less than three of her friends.

“Yes! Please! A drink,” Harry blurted out.

“Would Louis like one? I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. That girl is always getting into trouble.”

As soon as Harry’s mother had dropped off the last syllable, Louis begin to work her fingers again, building back up to her steady rhythm. Oh, how Harry wished she could sit down. Or better yet, haul Louis off to a private room and completely ravish her.

“Lou-- Louis would love one… I’m sure... When she’s returned,” Harry trailed off weakly, remembering that Louis wasn’t supposed to be in the vicinity.

“Very well,” her mother sighed before turning her back on Harry and making her way towards the next room where the refreshments were.

“Lou,” Harry whimpered softly. Again, Louis must have heard her, or felt her, because she redoubled her efforts. Making Harry’s body vibrate with pleasure once again.

Harry very well could have peaked like that, with Louis hidden under her skirts, touching her so intimately. And then she felt Louis’ breath heavier, more humid, on her thigh than before.

Next thing she knew, Louis had leaned forward enough that she could split Harry’s pantalettes even wider and barely touch her tongue to Harry’s center.

Harry squeaked loud enough that three of the gentlemen locked in conversation somewhere to her right turned their attention to her. As the completely alien feeling of Louis’ warm wet tongue laving across her most intimate place sent Harry flying, she did her best to wave the men off with her fan.

Her attempt must have been halfhearted and weak, and her fan’s movements had stopped completely, because shivers had begun to wrack her body and she had started to curl in on herself in ecstasy as Louis continued to lick her.

Louis’ hand came up to pinch her hip again, and the concentrated dose of painful pleasure sent another aftershock through her.

Eventually, she managed to stay upright, but she was wincing in sensitivity, so she brought her hand down to push at the front of her skirts, hoping she could get through one of the holes in the cage of the hoop to try to get Louis to stop.

Harry felt keyed up and languid at the same time, and as soon as she felt the back of her skirt lift up again and the door open behind her, she slumped against the wall next to it and went back to fanning herself hoping to combat her now scarlet cheeks.

Sweat dripped from her hair down the back of her neck and shoulders until she felt it hit the top of her neckline against her back.

Another minute later, Louis sidled up to her, quite literally licking her lips, and it made Harry’s knees weak to think about what they had just done.

“Hello, Harry. Are you having a nice evening?” Louis asked with a smirk.

“Mrmpgh,” was all Harry managed to say in response.

“How eloquent,” Louis teased, certainly not doing anything to help Harry’s blush recede.

“Louis, there you are!” Harry’s mother called out, holding a glass of lemonade in one hand and ratafia in the other. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted--”

Her explanation was cut off when Harry forcefully grabbed the tart lemonade from her hand and downed it all in one go.

“Harry,” her mother hissed at her lack of propriety, while Louis just giggled.

Harry was still breathing heavily when Louis reached down to grab her hand that still held the fan.

“I’m sorry, but I believe Harry has torn her hem. One of the gentlemen stepped on it, you know how careless they are, but she and I should retire to one of the parlors to fix it.”

“Oh yes, of course dear,” Harry’s mother replied without paying attention, having spotted another one of her dear friends. “Ta-ta.”

Louis held fast to Harry’s hand as she led them out of the ballroom and Harry had never felt more alive.


End file.
